Masochist
by PaperMoonsandWolfstar
Summary: It wasn't that he was a masochist. It was more of a... fascination. Reid POV, angsty, written in drabbles. Probably will be Derek/Spencer.
1. Chapter 1

"Reid, what're you livin' on here?"

Derek is stood in my kitchen, cupboards open, frowning at the empty space.

I stick my head in the doorway, holding a bag of clothes.

"What do you mean?" I ask vaguely, trying to evade the question.

"I mean, what do you eat." he repeats slowly, as if talking to an idiot.

My cheeks flush.

"Haven't had time to go grocery shopping." I say, and he shakes his head.

"If that's it, then how come these shelves right here are covered in dust?"

Before I can lie again, he opens another cupboard, finding a family sized box of cereal.

He slams the door closed, opening the fridge. There's a bottle of milk in there, as well as a ton of energy drinks.

I bite my lip.

I can feel myself panicking as the dip in his forehead deepens, and I pull my bag closer to me. My gun is holstered on the side of my hipbone, and it jabs painfully into the bone.

I take a deep breath.

"You know how hectic our work schedule is. I'm hardly ever here, 96% of the time, I eat with you guys. Any food here tends to go to waste."

Derek stares at me for a few long seconds, but I just pull the bag closer to me, increasing the pain.

He eventually nods, accepting my answer.

"C'mon kid. We gotta go." he says, brushing past me.

I take one last sweeping glance over the kitchen, before turning off the light, slamming the door, and following Derek out of my apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

"Spence, you've had three cups of coffee in the last half hour. How are you not bouncing off the walls?" JJ laughs.

I take another calm swig of the lukewarm coffee, very aware of Derek's eyes once again fixed on my skull.

"I've always had a high caffeine tolerance." I say easily, finishing the dregs and tossing the crumpled cup into the bin on the jet.

JJ is making rounds, tossing files at us all. I awkwardly reach out for the one she throws at me.

Not only do I miss, it also slices the tip of my finger.

And Derek is still watching me, so if I fake the wince that should have been an instantaneous reaction, two seconds too late, he'll be doubly suspicious.

I release a soft mouthful of air instead, curling my finger to avoid blood splashing on my clothes.

Derek saw what happened. Derek saw my lack of reaction, the opposite of a normal reflex.

We've all had paper cuts on the jet. I could have mimicked any of them, but I froze.

I didn't curse, like Derek does. I didn't murmur a soft cry of pain, like the girls would. I didn't even scowl, like Hotch would have done.

When you react less to a situation that Hotch, you know you're in trouble.

Derek's eyes are still lingering on my face, so I slide the file in front of my eyes, obscuring his view.

I do smirk a little bit when he sighs in annoyance. I can practically _feel_ his scowl.


	3. Chapter 3

"Nice hoodie." Derek smirks.

I blush, pulling the sleeves over my hands. The rest of the team are biting back laughs, eyes travelling over my form.

JJ and Emily excuse themselves, heading to the bathroom, and I slide into the middle, keeping the sleeves over my hands.

Derek, Rossi and Hotch are all staring at me, not helping the tinge of red on my cheeks subside.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for the hoodie type." Rossi remarks, after a long silence.

I shift in the soft interior of the hoodie, clenching my fists inside the sleeves.

"I packed in a hurry." I mutter. "It's the only thing I can find that's warm."

Rossi breaks his stare with a smirk. Hotch's cell starts vibrating, and he mutters something incomprehensible before striding away.

Derek is still staring at me, because he knows that I didn't pack in a hurry. Not by a long shot.

The waitress bustles over at that point, coffee pot clutched in her hand. She starts filling mugs, and in my haste to grab mine, the sleeve slides up to reveal my hand.

Derek is grinning flirtatiously at her, and Rossi is taking a sip.

I make to sigh in relief, but naturally, I didn't account for the waitress.

"Oh honey, let me get you some ice for that!" he exclaims, and before I can even process what's happening, she grabs my arm and yanks the sleeve up higher.

Rossi and Derek's attention is now fully focused on me, or more, the dark mars lingering across my knuckles, puddles staining the dips in between, dark purple murmurs that look a lot worse in the dirty light of the diner.

"Reid, what the hell happened?" Derek demands.

"I trapped it in a door." I say, a little too defensively, and Rossi leans forward, grabbing my hand a little too hard.

I try not to wince.

"Bruises are not consistent with a door. Looks more like you punched a door, Reid." he says sharply, and I try to yank my hand away, but he won't let me.

"If you trapped it in a door, why are you hiding it?" Derek snaps.

"I knew you'd fuss." I say grumpily. They're both staring right at me now, making me want to throw up.

I stare at the table, willing the ground to collapse under me and engulf me.

No such thing happens, however, and five seconds later they're both still watching me distrustfully.

"Stop lying, Reid. Just tell us what happened." Rossi says, his tone softer now.

"What happened to who?"

JJ and Emily are stood at the head of the table, looking confused, but thankfully, oblivious.

I slide my hand under the table, tugging my sleeve down.

There's a tiny window of silence.

"Reid cut his finger." Derek says finally, struggling to keep the infuriation out of his tone.

"It's a papercut. Stop fussing." Rossi adds after a minute.

They obviously see right through the lie, due to the god awful deliverance, but aside from a frown, don't question it.

I keep my eyes fixed on the table. Maybe they'll let it go.


	4. Chapter 4

The insistent knocking on the door three minutes after I get back to my room destroys _that_ hope.

I bite back a sigh, opening the door to reveal a very irate Derek and Rossi, and shift to let them in.

I perch on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

"So what really happened, Reid?" Derek asks.

"I punched a wall." I murmur, realising that it's pointless to lie at this point.

Rossi rolls his eyes, and Derek raises an eyebrow.

"You? Punching? I don't see it." he says, and Rossi snorts.

I scowl at them.

"So why'd you punch the wall? What did it ever do to you?" Rossi smirks.

"Hilarious." I grumble, standing up and pacing to the other side of the room.

I stare out at the horizon. It's a cloudless night, and I can see the hums of sunlight fading behind it, illuminating strips of pastel blue which slowly fade into an intimidating navy.

"I was in a bad mood. It was stupid, I know." I respond absently, still fascinating by a singular blinking star above me.

Rossi makes another joke that I try not to hear, leaving soon after. Hearing the door snap closed, I sigh deeply, relieved that I'm once again alone.

I pull the smothering hoodie over my head, tossing it behind me, and turn around.

" _Reid."_

"I-I thought you'd left." I stutter, staring at Derek.

"Reid. Tell me that you are not…that you're not hurting…yourself." Derek says, with some difficulty.

I can't deal with this.

"Morgan, get out." I snap.

" _What?"_

"Get out!" I yell, so loud that I go a little bit dizzy.

"Reid, what the hell-"

"Morgan. Get out. Get out. Get out." I chant.

There's a locked feeling in my chest, oxygen dancing out of my reach.

I need to be alone. He needs to be gone.

My mind is a white hot flush of panic.

Derek reaches over and touches my arm.

I sprint away from him as fast as I can, dashing into the bathroom and slamming the door closed as hard as I can.

Leaning over the toilet, I vomit up all of the coffee I drank earlier, the area where he touched me burning.

My arms are shaking, and I need to calm down, but I can still sense him out there, waiting for me, and I can't handle it.


	5. Chapter 5

He leaves after a few minutes, maybe more, but I don't move for half an hour. I feel frozen in place, watching my own hands shake on the porcelain, my right stained with purple.

I feel numb. I feel like an ice sculpture, slowly melting over the unbearable heat coming from everything around it.

There's pressure behind my eyelids.

I press my lips together, climbing up off the bathroom floor and taking a deep breath.

The hotel bathroom is marble and tiles, stains of cold still clinging to my skin despite the clothes I have on.

I lean over the edge of the bathtub, reaching for the hot tap and cranking it up to full.

With that, I flick the bathroom lock, quickly stripping and averting my eyes from the reflection in the widow.

 _It isn't a symptom, I mean, who enjoys looking at themselves naked?_

The water is only pooling in the tub, steam rising and clouding up the window.

I step in, hot water swimming around my naturally cold toes and sending sharp thawing pains up my shin.

The blankness on my face would probably alarm anyone who could see me right now. The truth is, I just don't see the point in reactions to pain. I mean, they don't lessen the sting, only make other people aware of it.

The only reason I react in public is because that's conventional. Just another stupid societal expectation that holds no real merit.

I sit down in the tub, steaming water splashing over my pale limbs. My feet are already stained red, hot flushes across my forehead making me feel like a menopausal woman.

What a strange thought. Funny, I feel kind of lightheaded.

I recline awkwardly, the fixture jabbing painfully into my back, knees bent.

The heat of the water is so great that it almost feels like cold.

All of my veins are protruding by this point, sweat trickling down my forehead. I bite back a smile at the painful redness spreading across my skin, reaching over and turning the knob to off, replacing the hot spray with cold.

The icy jet does make me gasp, but in relief, as I splay my fingers underneath it and relish in the temperature change.

I leave the tap running, going back to my reclined position. My fogged up head is beginning to clear again, thankfully.

When cold water begins back-flowing underneath me, I stop moving, staring up at the ceiling and closing my eyes.


End file.
